


Playmate

by GhostCrumpet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Consensual, Consensual Non-Consent, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Kinktober 2017, Negotiated Kink (Offscreen), Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: Steve loves Darcy. Darcy loves Steve. Both of them have certain needs, and that involves sharing Darcy with various other members of the Avengers, the auxiliary support staff, and other Supers from time to time.Another one of them Darcy-fucks-everybody fics. For Kinktober 2017. Chapters are tagged via title with kinks and pairings so you can skip stuff you don't like. I'm nice like that.





	1. Phil: Public, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrissiHR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissiHR/gifts).



> Cause Chrissi asked for it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's unhappy that she got all dressed up and Steve couldn't be bothered to pa her a little bit of attention at an important gala function.
> 
> Phil's going to teach her a lesson, and then pass her off to the big lion.

“Frustrated?” Phil’s voice interrupted Darcy’s mindfulness exercise. She looked back over her shoulder at him. He was a silhouette in the doorway, the double-glass french doors open. Behind him, the party continued on in the hotel ballroom, oblivious to two of the guests departure.

“He didn’t even look once,” she said, shrugging before she looked back out over the city. Phil’s shoes clicked over the terrace’s tiled floor, and a warm hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Phil’s thumb stroked along her hair-line, through the soft tufts of baby-fine hair there. She shivered, partly from the way her dress sat off her shoulders.

She knew she’d looked  _ ah-mah-zing _ that night. A jewel-toned blue wiggle dress in taffeta shot with black fairly made her skin glow. The best part had been the fishnets though, more comfortable than they ought to be, ending in a matching deep blue garter that snugged around her waist under the dress.

“Are you sure about that?” Phil’s words buzzed into the back of her ear. She relaxed into him as he wrapped her up in his arms, his warm, broad hands stroking over her hips.

“Mmmhmm. He was busy,” she tried not to let her pout melt into her tone, but Phil heard it anyway. His hands gripped her tighter.

“I think we’ve spoilt you,” he murmured. “Thinking you can have attention any time you want it, no matter how busy we are, or even when we have important matters to attend to.”

“I’m an important matter,” she protested, twisting her head to look up at him. His lips were curved up at the corners.

“Oh are you,” he mocked gently, knowing it would rile her up. Even though she knew what he was up to, she couldn’t help but fall into the trap he was laying out for her, and she stamped her foot impatiently. “He was speaking with the diplomats from China. I’m sure you can appreciate how important having a good working relationship with the People’s Republic is right now for the Avengers?”

Of course she knew. The pile of textbooks sitting on her desk in the corner of their living room (the ones she hadn’t cracked in months because did she  _ really _ need to finish off her degree when she could have a job at Stark Industries, or even with Dr. Banner, or with Jane, or with Dr. Strange is she wanted it?) told her how much Steve being on speaking terms with all the world leaders was important.

General Ross had taught them that painful lesson: the Avengers could no longer afford to be isolationist and American-interest-only focused. If they’d communicated better with other world powers outside of the USA maybe the Accords would’ve never been tabled.  _ Maybe. _

It was a big maybe, and not one she put a lot of stock in, but Phil and Steve did.

So she grumbled and let her head rest back against Phil’s shoulder.

“It would’ve been nice for him to at least… look,” she whispered. Phil sighed, and then bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and then the lobe of her ear. She trembled, her eyes sliding shut. His lips traveled down the slope of her neck, over the curve of her shoulder, warming her chilled skin. She shifted her feet, the heels scraping over the tiles.

Phil had the power to melt her in moments, although he was being rather lazy in his kisses, his lips dragging over her flesh. She exhaled when she felt teeth scrape the sensitive spot at the edge of her shoulder. His hands tightened on her, fingers digging into her muscles. The firm grip sent a flare of heat right to her pussy.

“You’re becoming extremely demanding, Princess,” Phil said, his voice dropping in volume, barely audible over the party sounds that still tumbled out the ajar door behind them.

“I’m not,” she protested, trying to turn in his arms to look him fully in the face. He wouldn’t let her however, keeping her still. He pressed into her from behind, forcing her up against the waist-high balustrade that surrounded the little patio. Her breaths escaped her in cold, frosted puffs that fogged up the air. It was cold, but she was burning, especially with the thick, burly heat of Phil standing behind her.

“I would teach you a lesson,” he whispered into her neck, his hands slipping up her sides to tuck into the front of her dress. His fingers were warm, warmer than they had any right to be given how cold it was out. “But you know how loud you get when I spank you.”

The memories his words conjured up, of the fires licking over the skin of her thighs and ass as his fingers meted out punishment for some small infraction or other wrong she had committed, made her internal muscles clench down hard.

She rocked her hips back towards him, feeling the thick bulge of his cock rub into her rear as she did so.

“Besides,” Phil’s tone turned light, almost conversational, as he yanked down the neckline of her dress, letting her breasts fall free without support from the built-in strapless bra. “He asked me not to bruise you tonight.”

She whined as the cold air turned her already tight nipples harder, and gasped in relief when his fingers roughed over them, tweaking them between forefinger and thumb.

“You’re going to mess my dress up,” she said, ignoring the way her voice bumped and hitched with each slow, teasing pinch of his fingers.

“Shouldn’t have picked taffeta,” Phil countered. “I warned you. I told you, choose something that doesn’t wrinkle so easily. Stretch velvet, next time.”

The sea of lights in front of her swam as he pinched just this side of too hard, and pain sparked in her breasts.

“Phil-”

His hand came up to cup around her mouth, silencing her.

“I suppose one or two love taps wouldn’t go amiss,” he rumbled into her hair. He pinned her against the balustrade as she squirmed and fought him. He liked it when she fought back. His other hand went to the hem of her dress and hiked it up, exposing her bare ass. The tight fabric stretched just enough to get past her hips, although she knew that if she didn’t get him to stop soon, she’d be ruined for any further appearances at the party. Nothing said  _ debauched sex pot _ like horizontal wrinkles on an otherwise pristine dress.

“No panties?” he said as his palm caressed one of her flanks. “Don’t even think about the ‘it ruins the lines’ excuse. That’s what Spanx are for.”

She cried out into his hand when it landed on her ass. He’d given himself enough room to work, while still keeping her hard up against the railing. A master of physical manipulation that he was, she cursed him into his palm, only to have him spanking her again, in the same place to build the heat.

She knew him by now, knew exactly how he liked to work her up. She rubbed her thighs together, wondering if she ground herself back against his erection, would he take pity on her and just fuck her already.

It wasn’t to say he was predictable, but he could be  _ influenced _ to stop a little punishment early if she played her cards right. Unfortunately he caught onto her game with the next slap of his hand on her ass, and he twisted to one side to avoid the grind back of her hips.

“I don’t think so,” he said as he kissed the side of her face. She could feel his smile in the shape of his lips as he did so, and she whimpered, the protective heat of his body vanishing and, with it, the rush of cold tingled on her abused, reddened flesh. “He asked for a favour tonight, and I’m granting it, one man to another.”

“Nnngh?” she managed from behind his hand, trying to look at him.

“You wanted him to look.” His hand struck her again, this time on her thigh. She could feel his fingers digging into her leg, marking her. She’d have bruises in the morning, ones she’d smooth her hands over in the shower, or right before she got dressed. They’d disappear under a thick sweater and a wool skirt and leggings, but she’d feel them all day, know that Phil’s hands had been on her. He’d see her in the hallway, too, his eyes trained on the part of her body that wore the evidence of his ownership. Maybe his lips would quirk, or he’d blink a little too slowly, but the rush of heat to her cheeks that followed his acknowledgement would be unmistakable.

“You wanted him to look, and when he didn’t, you sulked. You thought he wouldn’t notice since he wasn’t fawning all over you, but I noticed. I noticed, and I let him know, and he is very,  _ very, _ disappointed in you, Darcy,” Phil’s voice dropped with each word until he was growling into her ear, his hand swinging and landing on her ass again and again.

She squirmed, desperate for release and escape, her slick running down the inside of her thighs. Her clit was burning, needing to be touched. She had no way of asking, and even if she did, she doubted that Phil would give her what she wanted anyway.

He let her mouth go at the same time as he pulled away, leaving her to grab at the balustrade for balance, and gasp out a soft curse.

“Christ, Phil,” she said quietly. Her hands went to her skirt as she tried to yank it down, but her skin was swollen and soft, making the tight fabric stick.

“Stay here,” he ordered her as she looked up at him with a pitiful whine in the back of her throat. “Look out at the city and think about your behaviour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve-o's turn up next.


	2. Steve: Public, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes out to teach Darcy a little lesson of distracting him.

With that he was gone. She growled, trying to tuck her breasts back into the dress at the same time as fixing her rucked up hemline. She’d finally gotten it back into place when the door scraped over the tile. She looked up.

Steve stood there, his neat deep blue suit appearing black in the shadows of the balcony. Still, there was no disguising the trim lines as they fairly melted over his body, or the sharp v of his waist to shoulder ratio. His mouth was in a tight, grim line that reminded her too much of bad meetings with Tony. He shut the door behind him and walked toward her. Without thinking, she pressed back against the balustrade.

“You thought I wasn’t looking?” Steve said, disappointment in his voice. He reached for her, and she pressed up into his space. His hand went to her hip, his other to cradle the side of his face. She longed to wipe the unhappiness from him, the distress she’d caused. She hadn’t meant it, not really, she’d just been so excited to be out with him, to be  _ his _ for once, in public, something that they’d never done. And he’d kept his distance.

“I-” she started but he muffled her with a slow, burning kiss, that left her reaching for his lapels for something to hang onto.

“You think I even needed to look at you when every other man in the damn building was straining their eyeballs to stare at you?” Steve asked, his voice rough and angry. His hands slipped down her body, under her ass, and he lifted her up. She yelped, biting her tongue to keep quiet when he glared at her. They were almost eye to eye now, and he slotted between her thighs without another thought.

She knew better than to answer him. He wanted her to be quiet, and to listen to him vent his frustrations. If she was good, she might even get a decent dicking out of it.

“I don’t even have to touch you to know you’re already wet.” Steve’s hands went to her thighs, and her dress scraped over the granite of the railing as he shifted the fabric up her body. “He got you all riled up for me, Doll. Tell me, how sore is that pretty little ass of yours?”

She bit her lip when her tender rear slipped on the stone rail, the rough texture of it abrading her skin. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her though, and Steve smirked, looking too damn pleased with himself. She had half a mind to squirm off of the railing and return to the party, but his arm banded around her waist.

He pressed closer to her, grinding his hips between her thighs until his woolen suit pants were rubbing slowly, roughly, against the bare skin of her pussy. It prickled, and she moaned.

“Tell me, Darce, how sore is your ass?” he demanded. She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. His eyes were half-lidded and dark with desire, and his tongue snuck out to wet his lower lip.

“S-sore,” she stammered, and his mouth spread into a wide, easy grin.

“How about we make the front match the back, since you were so kind in wearing these…” His fingers trailed down her thigh, to slip through the open weave of her fishnets. His fingertips stroked the skin underneath and she shuddered.

“Steve, please,” she pleaded. He bent down and kissed her quiet. She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. She wanted to get inside of his shirt, under that suit jacket, to run her hands along al his bare, taut skin.

“Darcy, please,” Steve teased her, a taunting lilt to his voice that she love-hated. He dragged his hands up her net stockings, each thread pulling and releasing as his fingers passed over them. He pressed her thighs apart, his thumbs tucking under her garter straps. “I’m gonna please you, Darcy.” He licked his lips and then kissed her again, stroking and teasing the bare skin of her inner thighs.

She trembled, and he was reminded of a time when she’d trembled  _ just _ like that….

_ Darcy sat in Steve's lap, he petted her head and had one arm curved over her lap, his hand running over her bare thigh in small circles. Across from them sat Coulson, neat, well-dressed as usual, a pleasant expression on his face. If it hadn't been for the tremble of Darcy's muscles under Steve's hand, they could have been discussing anything.. the weather, plans for a local school to visit Avenger's tower... anything except the explicit sharing of his girl with one of his closest friends. _

That had been the day he’d agreed to let Darcy  _ play _ outside of their little, strange friends-with-domination relationship. Whatever he had with Darce had been blossoming slowly for a few months, although they’d kept quiet about it in public circles. Coulson was astute, however, and had come to him, man to man, to ask him if his little domination games with Darcy was open to the intervention of a third party.

Steve had been loathe to even think about sharing, it wasn’t in his nature to share his girl, but when Darcy had looked up at him with a shy hope, he’d bent. As he’d realized that Coulson could provide a bit of backbone in some areas that Steve wasn’t able to as he tumbled more and more in love with her.

Now he wouldn’t have it any other way, even the cold nights she was gone and he was in his bed alone. At least he had the certainty that if something happened to him on a mission, she’d be safe with Coulson alone at worst, or have Coulson, Clint and Natasha to comfort her at best.

“Steve,” Darcy’s voice was harsh, and definitely needy. It interrupted his dark thoughts, and he looked down at the squirming girl in his arms.

“I’m sorry Doll, did you feel neglected?” he asked, before kissing her slowly, his tongue dipping into her mouth. She clung to him.

“All night,” she whispered when he finally stopped kissing her. “You left me alone all night.”

A dark shadow crossed his heart and he tightened his grip on her thighs until she mewled.

“You should know better than to dress up like this,” he said, letting his voice drop to a purr. She shivered and he pawed slowly at her thighs, running his hands up and down the fishnets. “You oughta know by now that this kinda thing gets me going, and all it’s gonna be is trouble for you when I finally get my hands on you.”

He stood back for a moment to admire the picture she made.

“You bought them,” Darcy said, looking mulishly at the fishnets he was stroking. A smirk spread across his face.

“Damn right I did,” he said, fingers digging in through the net. He gave a steady pull, and with no effort, the fishnets stretched and then  _ gave, _ ripping and leaving her legs bare to the cold and his touch.

“Steven!”

His laugh interrupted her shocked outburst and he fell to his knees, tugging her to the edge of the bannister.

“Be good and quiet, Doll, or I’ll have Phil come back out here and really give that pretty ass of yours a beating.

“But you didn’t have to do that, cause I’m not-”

“Wearing panties, yeah, Sweetheart, I  _ noticed. _ ” He was trying not to be annoyed about it all, because he’d brushed by her a few times during the night, and with his enhanced senses, he could  _ scent _ the soft musk of her, how just lookin’ at him had gotten her all riled up throughout the evening. It had driven him half mad, and now, on his knees, at eye-level with the pretty pussy that’d been taunting him every minute of the gala, he had a good idea on how to pay her back.

He could just see the dark pink hint of her cunt between her thighs, and wanted to touch the soft wetness that he knew he’d find there if he just had her spread her legs a little further. He wrapped his hands around her knees and pushed, gently, mindful that she was sitting on rough stone and her rear was already abraded from Phil’s treatment earlier.

She hesitated for a moment, and then obeyed his wordless demand.

“Hands on my shoulders, Doll, so I know where they are,” he ordered and her fingers laced through the neatly-ordered blond strands. If he had anything to say about it, his hair wasn’t going to stay neat and tidy for long.

It was a risk, but he was done playing games, done pretending that his girl wasn’t his girl, and even if he was  _ sharing _ her, his ego wasn’t going to let him hide the woman that he loved any longer.

It was dangerous, it was damn stupid, but he wanted everyone back in the gala, including the press, to know that Darcy Lewis was his.

“Don’t you be quiet now,” he said, and smirked at her gasp as he nuzzled the soft skin of her mons before slipping his tongue between the parted folds of her pussy. The raw, salt taste of her consumed him and he licked a long, slow drag down from her clit to her entrance. Her thumbs dug into the soft spots behind his ears when he flicked the tip of his tongue back up over her clit.

He was going to make her do that again, but this time, with  _ noise. _

“Darcy,” he said, pulling back an inch to press a messy, damp kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I said don’t you be quiet.” Then he set about making sure that she’d cry out. He licked the wetness right out of her, until her ass was rolling against the bannister, her little hips lifting up to meet him with each flick and flutter of his tongue.

He especially liked the way her legs had slid over his shoulders, her ruined fishnets brushing the sides of his neck every so often as she tried to get him impossibly closer to her.

Steve knew just what she needed, especially if he intended to taking her soft, gasping moans up a notch in volume. He shouldered her thigh out of the way, ignoring the way she protested, and wrapped his fingers around the garter that clung to what was left of her fishnets. He trailed his thumb up the inside of her thigh, until Darcy, getting his notion, rotated her leg outward to give him room.

“You ready for this, Doll?” he asked, although his words were mostly muffled by the ruched skirt of her dress, and the soft skin that he’d spent the better part of ten minutes teasing and wrecking with his tongue.

“Nuh uh,” she whispered, but she rolled her hips up anyway. Two of his fingers slotted against her entrance and she moaned as he slid them all the way in with one slick, smooth motion. The heel of her shoe thudded against his back as she pulled him in tight. “Oh god.”

He knew if he looked up her head would be tilted back, her lips parted as she gasped for air.

He was going to ruin her, then kiss it better.

She cried out when he twisted his wrist, slipping his fingers around inside of her until the tips of them  _ just _ rested on her g-spot, threatening her with a hell of a lot more pleasure than he was giving her right at that moment.

Her body started shifting, her hips rocking in urgent, short lifts, trying to get pressure where she needed it.

“Please, please, Steve,  _ pleaseplease _ ,” her words ran together and he felt the clench of her muscles. She was squirming, trying to use him for her own needs. But she’d been so very bad that night, tempting him at every turn, looking so beautiful in the clothes he’d bought her. Steve hadn’t minded when Phil had murmured that he was going to  _ take care of the problem. _

He just had expected Phil to take her home, not to debauch her within discovery distance of the party.

Well, Phil had started it, and Steve was going to end it. If they weren’t worried anymore about third parties stumbling on them, Steve was going to take full advantage.

“Look at the doors, Sweetheart, tell me what you see,” he whispered, arching his fingers up into the rough spot inside of her. Her leg tightened on his shoulder and she whimpered.

“P-Phil,” she said.

“Phil? You see Phil?” he asked, twisting his fingers up again into her g-spot, prompting a little whimper from her. His thumb worried over her clit and she moaned.

“Yeah-”

He slapped her thigh with one hand.

“Yes,” she corrected her grammar, and he smirked. “Yes, Phil’s there, standing.”

“Is he watching you?”

“No,” Darcy sounded almost petulant. “No he’s looking... looking at the party.”

“And why’s that?” With each question, he gave her a long, slow drag of his fingers, making her hips hitch and her inner walls tremble.

“Making sure we’re safe,” she answered between gasping breaths.

“Good girl. And why’s that? Why’s he gotta make sure we’re safe?” He breathed over the wet skin of her pussy and she sighed, thighs falling even further open for him.

“Cause I was bad and made a spectacle of myself tryin’ to get your attention, Steve, oh, Steve!” Darcy bent over, her arms wrapping around his head, pushing him up against her. He’d slipped a third finger into her, stretching her past her limits, because she usually put up a fuss with just  _ two _ but he wasn’t in any mind to pay attention to what she wanted right then.

She’d gotten what she wanted already: his distraction, his arousal, his eyes on her. Now she was going to give him what  _ he _ wanted.

“Be good,” he ordered her sharply, and she sat up, whimpering. “Hands back, behind you, on the bannister. Good girl,” he praised when she obeyed, her skirt loose around her waist, the garter belt peeking out from under it, the straps all a-stray from where he’d snapped half of them off the bands of her stockings.

“I’m so good,” she whispered, but they both knew the opposite was true. He chuckled.

“Oh you are now, are you?” He teased her by pulling his fingers out. Her shoulders deflated, collapsing in on themselves, in relief. “Don’t think so, Doll.” He slipped all three of the back inside of her and her hips arched up, rolling her pussy down and away from him, trying to escape the pressure he was putting on her. He stayed with her though, not letting her escape it because he knew if he pushed her limits, she’d come harder than anything, and be thanking him for it after.

“Should teach you a real lesson. Make you call me Sir, put a pretty little collar on that neck of yours, and remind you who bosses who around,” he said, his thumb tracing a light, gentle circle over her clit.

“No,” she protested, and he smirked up at her. Her lips were parted, her hair in messy curls, and she looked wrecked.

_ Good, _ he thought. Maybe she’d wise up and not bait the lion next time. Or maybe she would, and they’d all know that what she really wanted was a good, solid spanking and a rough finger fucking.

“Oh I think you’d like that,” he said, voice soft, “make you tag along after me while I go about my business, in a nice dress and no panties so I can turn you up over my lap at any time and paddle your ass. Usually I let Phil take care of that, but tonight…” His voice dropped and she shuddered as his fingers stroked her slowly inside, in that gentle, come-here motion that had her rocking into each touch of her g-spot. “Tonight, I remembered how much I like it when you’re begging for the good feelings to stop because they’re too much.”

Her mouth fell even more open, and he knew she was on the edge of her  _ real _ limits, not the ones she pretended to have for fun and naughtiness. He stood up, slipping his fingers from her wet walls.

The air was cold on his skin as he undid his trouser zipper, pulling his dick out. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“You’re not the only one who can go commando, Darcy,” he murmured to her. His arm came around her back and he pulled her against his chest, her ass sliding along the stone as he stroked his hard cock along her folds. He was going to give her what she needed.

“Steve!” Her hands pressed against his chest, her fingers curling in the lapels of his jacket.

He thrust into her, the warmth of her enveloping him and he had to pause for a moment, her knees digging sharply into his ribcage, as he took in the heat of her, the tightness of her cunt, the way her hair smelt, the soft noises she was making. He marked it all in his mind, for when he was away, and times were dark and miserable.

He rolled his hips, pulling out and thrusting back in slowly. She tightened up around him, her cheek pressing into the neck of his shirt. Her perfume, and the natural scent of her arousal, her shampoo, all of it overwhelmed him as he held her tight and began a punishing series of thrusts into her willing, wet warmth. Her breath spilled out, puffing against his jaw as she gasped and squirmed in his steel embrace. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere, keeping her mere inches from his body as he punished her, and himself, with short, deep thrusts.

“Please,” she started her begging almost immediately, the clench and release of her muscles telling him that she was close, and needed only a little encouragement from him to go over.

“Not yet,” he said sharply, and she moaned in protest, hiding her face in his collar. He let her, knowing the impending orgasm was too intense for her to manage and control her reactions. He handled it better, had more ability to manage himself when in the heat of passion.

He was starting to lose it though, her grasping heat becoming more and more overwhelming.

When she lifted her head, and he felt the soft, loving brush of her lips over his jaw, he growled, arms clamping down on her. She whimpered, and he thrust into her rougher, faster-

He groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her head back so he could kiss her as he came in a hot, long gush of cum. His hand slid down to her hip, easing her back so her hips were tilted up toward him. She moaned into his mouth, squirming to be released as she came down from her shuddering orgasm.

He licked her lower lip and then smirked.

“Regretting not wearing any panties now, Sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip before reaching down to withdraw himself from her pussy and tuck his flagging cock into his pants.

Her cheeks flushed.

“Didn’t think that one through,” she admitted, hunching her shoulders. An idea slipped into his mind and he chuckled.

“It’s alright. Phil’ll stand out there for as long as I need to clean you up.” He got down on his knees, spreading her thighs wide, and ignored her shrill noise of protest as he bent forward, intent on making his girl fit for good company again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an aborted attempt at fisting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chrissi is the best.

Darcy’s flank trembled, a shivering roll of her muscle under soft skin. There was a sheen of sweat in the small of her back, and her toes curled reflexively into the soft bath-mat Steve had placed for her before their evening had begun. It was gentle on her feet so she could stand for a longer period of time, and it had rubber on the underneath so it wouldn’t slip.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it, Doll?” Steve pitched his voice low for her, gentle-like. She was stretched over the edge of the dining room table, [trapped in the stocks](http://www.bdsm-gear.com/tablestock.html) that Tony had kindly custom-built for him. The only payment the other man had requested was a night with Darcy to himself, at some point down the line. He’d yet to call in the favour.

“Nooooo,” Darcy said, trying to roll her hips but barely able to squirm. The stocks kept her still, and the spreader bar secured around her ankles left her with no ability to evade the very specific and particular attention he was paying her at that moment.

“No what? You seriously giving me sass right now, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, incredulous. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be mouthing off right now.” He gave a wriggle of his finger-tips, and was rewarded by Darcy arching her ass up into the air, her muscles clenching as she attempted to push his intruding fingers, out. For that little bit of sauce, he swatted her ass with his open palm.

Darcy yelped and jerked forward, her back twitching.

“Steve,” she pleaded, her toes curling again as he pressed his finger-tips back inside her, bearing down as she stretched around him. “Steve, I don’t want to.”

He knew if she’d really wanted him to stop, she could have used her safeword, although she’d never had to in the past. He knew his girl too well, knew every twitch, squirm, and whimper- his abilities came in handy in the bedroom as well as on the battlefield. He wanted to push her to the edge of her limits, and knowing exactly when it was too far before she even knew was the perk of his senses. While he wanted to push her limits, he never wanted to, well, push her  _ past _ them. Knowing when she was getting to the edge of her tolerance let him play without hurting her.

“Yes you do,” he said softly as he slipped his fingers out and then slid back only one. She whimpered and he chuckled. “See? Not enough. You cry out like you don’t want it, but you do, Babydoll.”

He slicked all five tips of his digits back into her and she bucked her hips in protest.

“Steve!”

He knew if she’d had her freedom to move her head, she’d be craning her neck around over her shoulder to give him the big doe-eyed treatment. Nevermind that it wouldn’t work on him, she’d try it anyway. That was half the reason he’d had Tony build the stocks: to teach her that she couldn’t use her little feminine wiles on him anytime she liked. It was high damn time she learnt good behaviour, either by voluntarily obeying, or by force.

Tonight she was going to learn how to take his whole hand without whimpering and whining the entire time. No pleading looks. Every plaintive pleading from her would result in a good swat to her ass on the exact same spot. She’d been complaining at him, wriggling away from him, every time he tried to get more than two fingers into her, and Phil’d mentioned that it was about time that she learnt that a little vaginal pressure was no bad thing. There was a world of playthings they wanted to use on her, and none of it was going to happen unless she got over her temper tantrums about it. She took dick just fine, and Steve was girthier than two fingers. It was obviously just an attitude problem. Well, he wasn’t born yesterday, and he knew her protestations were just an attempt for her to control him, and set the terms of their games.

“What, Sweetheart? You don’t like that? Of course you like that. You’re wet as anything,” he pointed out gently, slowly twisting his hand one way then the other, feeling her soft skin resisting and giving way. He slowly worked his fingers up to the first knuckle.

The spreader bar jingled as she stamped one foot, and then shuddered again.

“Am not,” she breathed out the words, sounding like she was straining to catch air in her lungs.

“Oh, Doll, I thought I taught you better than to lie, especially when the truth is dripping down my hand,” he taunted. He pulled his hand out and she whined in relief, a sound that broke into a shriek when he aimed a rough, open-palm slap at her her exposed pussy.

“Ow!” She wriggled in the stocks, elbows banging on the table-top.

“We didn’t like that, hmm?” he asked. She growled at him, actually growled, and he had to wonder if he’d been letting her off too easy lately. He sighed and gave her another, none-too-gentle swat on the cunt that had her coming up on her toes with a whimper. This time she didn’t say anything, but her shoulders hunched a little.

“Gonna keep talking back, Darce? I got more of that where that came from. I could do this,” he paused to pat her pussy and she flinched, “all night.”

She huffed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other then settled.

“I’ll be good,” she said, sounding somewhat contrite. He’d take it.

“Just to be sure…” He spanked the wet, full folds of her pussy again, prompting a yelp from her that quickly bit off as she forced herself to be quiet. Good. She was learning.

He dropped his fingers to tease over her clit for a moment, stroking the tips of two back and forth over the little tender bud until she was sighing softly and leaning back into his touch. He could see her entrance pulsing, a light flutter of her muscles, and after a few more soft touches to her clit, he figured she was well primed enough for the main event. She wouldn’t get any wetter than she already was. He picked up the lube from where it sat on the table next to her hip, and squirted some over his fingers. The wet sound of him rubbing his fingers together had her moaning quietly and he smiled.

He loved her, and sometimes it was nice to remember that all of this, all the games they played, was just another way for him to show her how much he loved her, and a way for her to show him how much she loved him. Her submission was a damn gift, and he was so grateful to have such an amazing girl in his life that was incredible in every way, and then on top of that, loved more than anything to be his pretty little plaything, all spread out for him to enjoy.

“Ready, Sweetness?” He worked a finger into her, testing the way she squeezed him as he teased her g-spot. She was good and ready, his sweet, pliant girl. He worked a second finger into her and she moaned, her hips flaring her ass up for more. He sighed in pleasure, enjoying teasing her with shallow, quick strokes. He gave her a few more, easy, gentle strokes before slipping the tip of a third finger over her entrance. He felt her shiver, saw the tensing in her back, and then she relaxed, not making any noises of protest as he slipped his finger into her in a slow, steady push. He managed to get his fingers in, right to the base of his hand, before easing up on her as he felt rather than saw her knees starting to quake.

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged her warmly, as he went for the fourth, and smallest finger. Her breaths were coming in short, tiny huffs, and he wondered if she’d be able to control herself, if she’d be able to withstand the desire to make noise. Slowly, slowly, she took everything he was giving with her, and he couldn’t help the broad smile that was spreading on his face. She was submitting so beautifully, her breaths evening out and deepening as she relaxed around his fingers.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” he praised her, “my good, sweet, perfect girl.”

She moaned quietly, her hips twitching. He stroked his thumb over her clit and she responded with a small whimper, her walls clenching down on his fingers inside of her.

“Steve,” she said, rocking her hips, begging for more.

“No, Babygirl, if I do that, you’re going to be coming around my fingers before you know it,” he said, easing off from touching her clit. He swiped his thumb over her entrance, feeling the tense muscles and shuddering flesh. He knew she could do this. “Just remember, you get close, you tell me. You don’t have a gag because I’m being nice, and letting you tell me instead of just guessing. So you best tell me, Doll, or there’ll be consequences. You’re not gonna get to come until you’ve taken my hand like a good girl.”

She made a soft grumbling noise, but didn’t do more than that, so he let it slide. He pinched his fingers together to make it easier on her, and tucked his thumb up tight. He was gratified to see his fingers slipping in slowly, up to the first knuckle. She shivered, but didn’t so much as whimper. So far, so good, he thought, and his girl was doing admirably. There was a slight tensing in her muscles, which he figured was just her getting used to the stretch.

“How’s that going, Doll?” he asked, giving her a testing stretch as he spread his fingers a little. Her thighs tightened up, and he felt a familiar tremor in her pussy. He narrowed his eyes, focused on that pretty brunette head trapped on the other side of the polished, dark-stained wood.

“G-good,” she said, her thighs giving another, more wild shake. She was close, he could  _ feel _ it all around his fingers, even without stimulation on her clit that she normally needed to get off.

“Just good?” he asked, trying not to let suspicion colour his voice as he twisted his hand. She cried out, back arching hard, and he paused, hand stilling. “Darce?”

“Sorry,  _ sorry, _ ” she gasped, trying to quiet down. “I… I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t whining, it’s just…”

“It’s alright, Darce,” he soothed, and then resumed the relentless pressure of his hand in her pussy, slipping a little deeper.

“Steve,” her voice was soft, worn down, “hurts.” Her thighs clenched together as much as they could, fighting the spreader bar.

“Told you not to cry wolf on me, Sweetheart,” he said, “now I know you’re not hurtin’ or you’d be using your safeword, wouldn’t you?”

She fell quiet at that, and he smirked, his fingers sliding in deeper. Her muscles flexed, just once, and then she clamped down on his fingers, locking around him, her back arching hard as she screamed. Steve froze for a split second, and then his arm instinctively slipped under her belly, holding her close in case her legs gave out so she wouldn’t wind herself on the edge of the table. Darcy shuddered through intense pleasure, the stretch and spread of his fingers inside of her proving to be too much and taking her from a hovering-out-of-reach climax right into the middle of one of the loudest orgasms Steve’d ever witnessed from her.

He couldn’t help but sigh, shaking his head as he let his fingers slip from her before she was finished, knowing the empty feeling would bring her down faster. He’d have to start all damn over again.

“Darcy,” he said. She ignored him, panting wetly, her hips flexing as she clamped down on emptiness and whimpered at the hollow sensation. He ran his wet fingertips over the back of her thigh, up and down, waiting for her to come back to him.

Finally,  _ finally, _ her muscles stopped trembling and she stilled, a quiet falling over her as she seemed to realize what’d happened.

“Shit,” he heard her whisper.

“You got anything to say for yourself, Darce?”

She answered him with silence, telling him everything he needed to know.

“Well, alright then,” he murmured. She tensed up, even though she knew it would make the first strike sting harder. His hand slapped down on her ass, but she stayed quiet. She knew better than to make noise. He spanked her ass again, and again, turning the skin pink, and then a soft, glowing red. She was writhing in the stocks, not able to hold back her cries when he finally stopped, letting his hand smooth over her sore skin.

“Alright,” he said, “I think you’ve learnt the lesson in paying better attention to your body. Let’s try that again.”

She moaned in protest when his fingers teased over her entrance,but she lay her head down on the soft pillow he’d put on the table for her, relaxing all the same.

He slipped a finger inside her, and took a steady breath. Then his phone went off, and Darcy jerked at the sound.

It was the alert he’d set for whenever Fury called. It meant that there was a mission, solo, for Cap, excluding the other Avengers. The thought crossed his mind, just for a moment, to toss the phone across the room so it would shatter, but then his sense of duty reared it’s annoying head.

“Shit,” he said, pulling away from Darcy to answer the phone. She remained, obediently, quiet as he did so, but his eyes were locked on her trembling form. He couldn’t leave her tied up, that wasn’t in any way safe, but she was in no condition to be left on her own either. He’d have to take her to Clint and Natasha - they had an arrangement in the off chance this sort of thing would happen. Steve was just grateful he was the man with a plan.

After a quick conference with Fury, and realizing  the situation in Peru did warrant him leaving straight away, he hung up and set about letting Darcy out of her restraints. Before she could even whimper, he had her up in his arms, his oversized bathrobe wrapped around her as he cradled her against his chest.

“We’re going to Tasha,” he said to her, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. He cuddled her as he carried her through the dim hallways, murmuring sweet nothings to his best girl. Every so often, she shivered, a deep tremor that had him concerned. More than anything, he wished he could stay, since he’d had some favourite aftercare ideas prepped for her after they were done their little scene.

Natasha was more than good enough of a domme, though, that he trusted her implicitly to see to Darcy’s needs. Clint may have been somewhat lackadaisical, but he was more of a switch, and hapless. Still, even he would have cared for Darcy almost as well as Steve would on any given day- Clint and Darcy had a special relationship that only two more submissive people could have.

There was a feeling of  _ unfinished business _ turning over in his stomach, and he mentally ran through a list of things he would text Natasha after he’d dropped Darcy off. There was still the matter of her not listening to his instructions, and he didn’t want her to think that just because the world was ending, she was going to get off easy. Tasha would have to take over where he left off, something he felt he other woman would probably enjoy.

Steve’s wool-gathering was interrupted as Darcy shifted in his arms, her mouth finding the hollow of his throat to kiss there softly. His heart squeezed and he held her tighter. His girl was the sweetest thing in the world, and he wished more than anything that he didn’t have to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Clint and Natasha take care of Steve's girl.


End file.
